


Tick Tock

by FreckledJean



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bartender Jean, Cheating, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Jean Kirstein/Mikasa Ackerman, Soulmate-Identifying Timers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 21:04:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1442809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreckledJean/pseuds/FreckledJean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean Kirschstein is 22 when his clock stops. Eight months later, he's built himself up again, he's ok with his new life. He's got a supportive girlfriend, and a sturdy job working nights bar tending.</p><p>He's thrown completely off guard though when his clock starts back up; steadily counting down the days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blame

_Don’t blame yourself_   
_‘Cause you tried as hard as hell_   
_With the hand that you were dealt_

_Don’t blame_   
_Get on your feet, enough poor me_   
_If you got time to bitch and whine, well there’s still time to try again_

-Air Traffic Controller (Blame)

* * *

 

I look at my clock again, the dumb watch is still jumping dates. It’s never been set. My mother used to joke around and say my soul mate was in a different dimension and they’re jumping between times trying to find me. What I think? That’s a load of bull and my clock is defective.

It told me yesterday I would have to wait thirty years to meet them, now it’s saying seventeen days. It jumps again, oh wow thirteen seconds.

Dumb thing. I’m alone in a fucking park at seven in the fucking morning.

It jumps back up to 5 hours. I grunt and break into a jog. It’s been like this since I was born. I’m twenty two years old. I’ve been dealing with the shitty defective clock for this long. I’ve lived in constant anxiety over this. When will I meet them? I’ve accepted that it could be a guy or a girl. I’ve played around with my fair share of both while waiting for them.

I’m tired of waiting.

I’ve gone out everyday, constantly searching for some kind of connection. Everyday its the same thing. Nothing.

A sudden buzz on my wrist makes me look at the clock. My heart stops. 0000 days 00 hours 00 minutes 00 seconds.

The park is still empty. No one is near me.

Maybe it’s just being defective. It normally changes after a couple seconds. I wait. And wait.

Nothing.

My heart clenches. All these years waiting and I’m left with the sudden realization that they are probably dead. My legs feel weak. My knees are wobbling. I stumble over to the nearby bench and drop down onto it. I suddenly feel useless. I know I can still carry on and find someone new, but I feel so empty.

I clench my fists. _Don’t cry Kirschstein._

I hear footsteps coming but I can’t bother myself enough to look up. I’m still looking at all the zeros on my clock. The footsteps slow until they’ve stopped. I don’t have to look up to tell they’re looking at me. _Leave me alone._

“Are you alright sir?” Her voice is soft and strong.

“Um. yeah, I’m-” I lift my head to look at her. She’s gorgeous. Maybe my clock was off. Maybe it meant to give me more time and this is her. She looks asian, her black hair pulled up into a long ponytail and she’s dressed in a red workout top and nike shorts. Her toned abs are showing and I fail to notice I’m staring as she clears her throat.

“You don’t look alright.” She deadpans. Her voice has hardened, but her eyes are still laced with concern.

I limply raise my arm, showing off the useless clock. “Clock just went down.” I feel my throat tighten but I continue talking, “From 15 years to zero.” It was normally around 15 years so I went with that. I didn’t want to mention that it jumped around so much. They were probably deathly ill and thats why it jumped so much. I feel sick.

“I’m sorry.”

I look at her again, “Are you…” I can’t finish the sentence. I’m still too hopeful that I can find someone. Someone who’ll be able to put up with my hotheaded personality.

“I’ve been at zero for a long time.” She waves towards the empty spot next to me on the bench. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

I shake my head, “No, sit down.” I feel like I’m pleading. I don’t want to be alone again. I notice the small ring tan around her ring finger on her left hand. I don’t want to point it out, her face had fallen when I mentioned it before. I could say sorry for her loss but it seems like I’ve missed my chance for pleasantries at this point.

She’s quiet for a moment, the atmosphere between us seems too solemn for a first meeting. I’m thinking about just getting up and continuing on with my jog before she speaks up, her voice still soft and calming, “If you’d like, I could help you through it? I lost mine a couple years ago.”

I consider this for a moment. I don’t want to get help but this is almost too strange to bear alone. I didn’t know them but I feel so alone. So lost without them. Fuck it. “I don’t want to bug you, but that would be fucking great.” I mumble. “I’m sorry for your loss.” I add quickly.

A small smile tugs at her lips, “Don’t be. He was an idiot. Jumped headfirst into everything without thinking about the consequences.” She sighed wistfully, her voice dropping to a small whisper, “He brought it on himself.”

I want to ask who he was and what happened because it sounds a lot like someone I knew, but I know i’m in no position to ask. I’m stuck between debating about awkwardly hugging her or trying to speak again. Neither seems like a good option so I keep my mouth closed. I don’t even know her name yet.

“Do you want to go get some coffee?” She questions.

I’m still looking at the dead clock on my wrist and I slowly nod, “Yeah. Yeah I’d like that.”

She gives a small smile and lightly touches my shoulder, “Can you stand?”

“Yes.” I snap. She pulls away, her expression falling into a hard line and I mentally kick myself. I toss out an apology and I stand up slowly. My legs don’t feel as week but I still feel so empty I wouldn’t be surprised if they gave out randomly. I hold out my hand for her and pull her to her feet. I stare at our hands and lightly squeeze her hand. I don’t want to let go. “I’m sorry.” I don’t think I’ve said sorry this much before. I release her hand and I feel so much more closed off than before.

I notice her shiver slightly and quickly move to remove my jacket, “Here.” I hand it to her and she raises her eyebrows in surprise.

“Thank you.” She mumbles, slowly taking it from my fingers and slipping into it and zipping it up over her exposed stomach. We start walking over to the nearest coffee shop slowly. Her fingers brush mine and then slowly they slip in my hand and intertwine with mine. I look up at her in shock. “It’s alright to want to hold my hand.”

“I didn’t-”

“You did. I’ve been alone. It’s ok to want to have that reassurance.”

I can’t even think of any words to say to her. I nearly spit out ‘your hair is beautiful’ but I catch myself miraculously before so. Wow that would’ve made things awkward. “Thank you.” I stammer out. Wow. I’ve said I’m sorry three times and now a thank you? My clock must’ve been off. This never happens.

“Of course.” We walk in silence for a while before she speaks up again, “What’s your name?”

It seems silly that we haven’t introduced ourselves yet, but it never came up. Strange. “Jean Kirschstein. What’s yours?”

She slows her steps for a second before falling back into stride, a warm smile pulling at her lips, “Mikasa Ackerman.”

I squeeze her fingers and she looks up at me, her eyes seem distant but she’s still smiling softly. I can tell she’s not looking fully at me. “Glad to meet you Ms. Ackerman.”

“You too Mr. Kirschstein.”

 

..

 

The months went by, my clock never started again. I was still so alone. Mikasa did her best to cheer me up but it never helped to the point I wanted. She couldn’t fill the void in my heart with light cheerful words. She went out with me so often our friends had started jokingly asking us when we were moving in together or when we were seeing our significant other. They thought I had found my soul mate.  
The funny thing is we eventually did move in together. We were attracted to each others loneliness. I was attracted to her beauty and the minimal comfort she brought me. She was attracted to my awkward attempts at flirting and the familiarity my body brought her.

I was feeling comfortable again. I was running again. I didn’t loose my job bartending. I was seeing my friends on a regular basis. I was strong. I was standing. But I was empty.

 

..

 

I was heading home when I saw her trip and crash into the ground outside our apartment building. She slowly stood up, brushing off her jeans and trying to stand but her leg wobbled beneath her and she started to fall again. I rushed over to her, catching her just before she hit the ground again.

“You alright?” I hummed, I pulled her up to her feet and ignoring how limp she went in my arms. Her arms wrapping around my waist and burrowing her face in my chest.

“No.” She whispered.

I knew the date. She often spoke about him now. It was her way of coping with his departure. She said she needed to let him go, but they had been so close, she’d known him since they were kids. She couldn’t just let him go.

It was her anniversary.

I bent down, pulling her into a princess hold and she looked at me, her eyes daring to let the tears fall. I smiled softly at her, “Tell you what. I’ll cook you dinner tonight. If you want I can mix you up some bloody marys. I know how much you like those.”

I start walking up the stairs and smile as she buries her nose into my neck, “Please. Strongest drink you got would work too.”

I laugh and expertly work the key into the lock. I pull the door up and let it fall behind me while I carry her over to the couch. I set her down, carefully looking over her for any injuries. I bring her back some ice for her knee and bandage up the cut on her forehead.

“Thank you.” She mumbles, pressing her fingers to the band-aid on her forehead.

I press my lips to her temple and stand up strolling into the kitchen, “What do you feel like?”

“Do you want to make Sushi?”

I laugh at her request, “If that’s what you want I can. I was planning on just some mac and cheese.”

Her light laughter carries into the kitchen and I smile. Moments like these are the times when I forget that I’m not completely alone. “Thats alright too.”

“Awesome. Mac and cheese it is then.”

I start pulling out the ingredients when I hear her get up from the couch. She’s normally so quiet in her movements but that damn old couch would never let her get away with it. She disappears into the bathroom for a while and I try to ignore her muffled sobs. I wish I could do more for her, but the only thing I’m able to offer her is a warm body and empty words. We’ve gotten over most of our problems and we’ve started to function like a normal couple but days like these are when I remember all the issues we’re running off from. It feels so wrong, but at the same time so right.

I’m almost finished with the pasta when I feel her arms wrap around me. “How close are you to being done?”

I smile and turn my head slightly, pressing my lips to her nose. She squints and pulls back slightly. “Like one more minute.”

Her fingers play with the hem of my shirt and then her arms are gone. “Ok cool. Tell me how to make that blue drink.”

I let out a snort and look at her from over my shoulder, “Really Mikasa. The blue one? You’re gonna need to be more specific.”

She groans and leans back on the counter, watching me as I pull the pasta off the stove and start dishing it out onto plates. “The one with all the different alcohol. It’s got Blue Curano in it.”  
I raise an eyebrow at her, “Adios Mother fucker or Electric blue ice?” Those are the two ones I’ve made for her before. I do enjoy giving people those because wow is it fun to give people them and tell them adios mother fucker. Wow do they get drunk fast.

She raises an eyebrow at me as well, “Is that seriously what it’s called?”

I laugh and nod, “Yeah.”

She pulls away from the counter and takes the plates to the table. “Make me the first one then.”

I nod and set to work, pulling out the alcohol and required glass. I mix all of it together and make one for myself, and move to set it next to her plate. “I’d eat first.” I mumble as she moves to pick it up.  
She frowns at me but nevertheless picks up her fork and works at the food. “Think you’d mix some shots up after?”

I frown at her. I know it’s her anniversary and all but this is ridiculous. “Mikasa… I just came from working at the bar and you want me to mix up more drinks?”

She gives me a pout, pulling her hair out from the tight bun its in and fuck she’s pretty. I groan and cave in, eating much slower than she is. She quickly downs her drink and patiently waits for me to finish. The drink barely even gave her a buzz. I always forget how much she can drink before she’s drunk.

I finish up my food and grab both our plates, moving them to the sink before shuffling over to the bar. I set up the drinks and stare at her as she settles in across from me. “Tequila.” She orders.  
“No shooters?” I smirk, setting the glass in front of her. She shakes her head and quickly downs the shot, wincing at the taste of straight tequila. I didn’t even have a lime out for her. She nods for another and I narrow my eyes. “Mikasa…”

“Please.” She pleads.

“Fine.” I growl. I know when to limit her, but she’s worrying me by how much she’s drinking lately.

She’s got roughly six shots in her before she slides off the stool and strides over to me on the other side of the bar. When she kisses me, it hurts. It hurts because I know we’re just trying to provide affection for the other yet we know we’ll never feel that connection we want. I moved to press her up against the bar, kissing her raw until she’s moaning and her hands are sliding up my shirt to pull my body towards her as she’s pushing me back. She’s kissing me desperately, all her movements primal yet fluid. She tastes like alcohol.

I hike her up, her legs wrapping around my waist and she refuses to release her hold on my lips. She uses advantage of the new height and attacks my mouth with her tongue, eagerly chewing on my bottom lip and running her fingers through my undercut. She pulls back for a breath, brushing her nose against mine, her breaths heavy against mine.

I tilted my head again, brushing my lips against hers, kissing her softly. She instantly deepened it, tugging my hair so I stumbled back towards the bedroom. I kicked the door open and nearly dropped her on the bed. She tugged me down with her, making quick work of our clothes and shuffled up further on the mattress. I left marks on her body. The little bruises trailing up her stomach to her neck. Mikasa moaned and arched up into me, her skin pressing against mine.

I couldn’t show her I loved her. But I tried my best too.

She was the closest thing I had found to love.

I was glad I had her.

She filled in the voids I couldn’t fill alone.

I loved her as a best friend. My heart wouldn’t let me love her anymore.

 

..

 

I hate when I dream.

It’s always the same freckled kid. It’s like memories but I don’t know who they are, I don’t remember these moments of intense training. I have no recollection of side splitting laughter, late night pillow fights and sharing secrets. And I definitely have remembrance of all the death. Of his death.

I always wake up in a cold sweat. I always wake up afraid.

I blink against the bright light streaming in through the window. I’m sitting up, panting heavily. It was the same nightmare of the freckled boy rested against the wall. I had a name this time. Marco.  
It meant nothing to me. I had no idea who Marco was. But seeing his body always did things to me. I’d wake up feeling intense sadness. It felt almost as heart wrenching as the day my clock went dead.  
I shake myself out of the foreign memories and lean over, pressing a feather light kiss to Mikasa’s cheek. I slid out of the bed and pull on my boxers and a pair of jeans. Mikasa groans as she wakes up, rolling over to run her hand over the empty space where I had been moments ago. “Coffee?” I laugh as she snarls at the harsh light slipping through the windows.

“Please.” She rolls back over, ripping the covers over her head.

I stroll out of the room, grimacing as I realize I left the alcohol sitting out. It’s not bad to leave it out, but it’s better if they were refrigerated. I put them away, slightly miffed that I hadn’t done so last night. I shuffle around the space, pulling down the mugs and starting up the coffee maker.

It’s almost done when Mikasa comes shuffling out of the bedroom, wrapped up in the comforter. She stand up on her tippy toes and gives me a peck then turns to the coffee, pulling it out and pouring it into a mug. “Morning.” She grumbles before slipping back into the bedroom.

I pour myself a cup, turning around to pull out the excedrin and walk into the bedroom to set it down next to her along with a cup of water. She thanks me and slides further under the covers. I brush her bangs back and kiss her crown before walking back to grab my coffee and sit down in the living room.

It’s a slow day. Neither one of us have work but Mikasa still spends it on her laptop and chatting on the phone, talking to her stressed clients. I’m amazed that after all she’s been through, she walks others through the process everyday.

I’m spending my day just playing call of duty when my wrist buzzes again.

It’s been six months since the clock had been ticking down.

I nervously look down at it, my heart pounding.

No one gets a second chance.

But here it is. The defective watch is trying to give me another reason to live.

7 days.

I stare at it. I hear the sound of my player being shot in my game but I don’t care. I’m waiting for the clock to change back to 0, but it’s steadily counting down.

7 days, 23 hours, 58 minutes, 17 seconds.

I’m scared.

I’m elated.

I’m nervous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this at like 6 am so please don't judge if there are major errors. I'll look at it in the morning. I just really wanted to post it.
> 
> I wrote [this](http://freckled-jean.tumblr.com/post/82244482706/countdown) earlier and I just kinda morphed it with another story idea and this happened.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think! :D  
> Marco will arrive next chapter. Apologies if you were expecting him in this chapter.


	2. Come a Little Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long awaited meeting.

_Heartbreaks, the heavy world's upon your shoulders_   
_Will we burn or we just smolder_   
_Somehow I know I'll find you there_   
_Oooh, I wanna see if you can change it, change it_   
_Still I know I'll see you there_

_Come a little closer, then you'll see_   
_Come on, come on, come on_   
_Things aren't always what they seem to be_   
_Come on, come on, come on_   
_Do you understand the things that you would see here_   
_Come on, come on, come on_

-Cage the Elephant (Come a little closer)

* * *

It’s been at least four days since my clock turned back on. I keep giving it second glances to check if it’s still steadily counting down. It reminds me every morning with a soft buzz, telling me that I have one less day until I meet them. I’ve managed to hide the clock from Mikasa so far. She’s been busy with her most recent client and hasn’t been around for long in the mornings and when she comes home, the last thing she wants is to look at another soul mate clock.

I can’t bring myself to tell her either. It seems too real if I tell her. If I tell her, that makes them a person, and it gives me something to hope for. I don’t want to believe they’re out there. My timer could stop at any moment. I can’t tell her because what if they actually are out there. Where will she go? What will she do? Who will she have?

It’s hard to find another person to spend your life with once you lose your soul mate. There are groups you can join but they rarely help people. They try to teach you that you don’t need the other’s presence to be happy but what I’ve learned is that’s a load of crap.

Mikasa’s a wonderful woman, and I’m so happy I found her, but I still get that feeling that I’m missing out on a part of my life. Maybe those groups teach you how to mimic that feeling with another person. I don’t know. I started ditching the group the second day in when Mikasa made me go. I figured if I ever needed help, she would be able to help me considering she was a therapist for severed soul mates or something.

After I quit that group, I tried to remember everything my mom told me about the clocks; how they worked, why we have them, if there was a trick to altering your soul mate.

She believed in the theories that the clocks crossed across the universe, to different time dimensions and some shit. I loved her dearly, but sometimes her ideas got a little too wacky for me to follow. She always told me clocks like mine were rare. Clocks barely jumped around so much unless your soul mate was very ill, or as she liked to emphasize, they were in a different time. When I had asked her if I could influence others to love me like their soul mate she had looked at me sadly.

_“It’s very hard and takes years to create that kind of bond, Jean-bo.”_

I guess if my clock was just acting up again, I could just keep working on my bond with Mikasa. I looked down at my clock and sighed. It’s strange, I’m so used to it jumping sporadically that the fact that it’s counting down so slowly and uniformly, the nerves were starting to settle in.

* * *

I’m heading downtown to meet up with Connie and Sasha today. I haven’t seen them in a while and I have a weekend off from work anyway. Mikasa is busy trying to calm down one of her most recent clients. An old friend of hers she’d said. Poor guy lost his husband in a tragic accident and the nightmares have just started.

I don’t know why they happen but once we lose our mate, we get nightmares. Nightmares of what they were like. They can be memories, small little remnants of what they were like in previous lives or just little things your head makes up to try and keep an idea of them alive in your head. If you didn’t know them before they died, you’re left with the endless possibilities of how they died and any little quirks they might’ve had. Mikasa does wonders on teaching you how to deal with these, but they never really go away.

I’ve only ever had one dream. At least a week ago I suppose. One freckled kid, sitting against a wall, the right half of his face just gone.

I still can’t get the image out of my head, but luckily I haven’t had a nightmare hit me again. Though, Mikasa knows they’ll come back. If my soul mate is gone, the dreams are inevitable.

I hop off the subway and walk up into the streets, looking around until I find the little restaurant the two had told me to go to. Wall Maria. I walk inside and barely have time to look around before an arm is wrapping around my forearm.

“Jean! You came!”

I smile at her and pull her into a tight hug, lifting her off the ground and twirling her around. “Of course I came!” She’s laughing and when I set her down she gave me a light kiss on the cheek before starting to tug me lightly away to their table.

“Connie and I thought you’d be spending all your time with Mikasa.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me as she escorted me to the booth. “Cause you know, you got the weekend off. She’s working at home.” She trails off, her voice suggestive and she’s raised one of her eyebrows.

“An old friend is staying over. Not much time to be spent.” I wink at her, and she nudged my shoulder, grinning.

“Hey man. How you’ve been?” A man’s voice breaks our small talk and I glance up to look at Connie, sitting in the booth Sasha led us to. He’s got some hair growing in and it looks weird at first, but it’s so short it works on him. I grin and slide into the seat opposite him.

“Good. It’s strange seeing you with hair, man.”

He laughed, leaning back into the seat as Sasha slides in next to him. “I was going to get it shaved, but Sasha wanted to see what I looked like with hair.” He grinned at her and she leaned forward, running her fingers through the short strands on his scalp.

“It’s weird but I like it ya’ know?”

I smiled at the two. It was nice seeing them so happy, they’d been with each other since I met them back in high school. They used to try and help me find my mate but it never worked. Connie and Sasha are pretty great wingmen but it’s hard to establish a long lasting relationship when everyone is constantly waiting for their person, and you aren’t them.

I pull our waiter over and that’s when Sasha’s eyes fall to the watch on my wrist. I lower my hand quickly and give her a warning glance before telling the waiter my order. I don’t want Sasha to say anything. I don’t think I would know how to explain it to her anyways. Both she and Connie think that Mikasa is my soul mate that I miraculously bumped into. I didn’t have the heart to tell them otherwise.

Luckily, Sasha let it slide for the moment. She carried on a light conversation for the rest of the dinner, but I could feel her scrutinizing gaze whenever my wrist moved, or whenever her eyes caught sight of the number changing.

We had finished eating when Mikasa had started texting me, letting me know that her client, Levi, had left.

“Mikasa seems like she’s calling me back, so if you don’t mind, I’ve got to dash guys.” I started scooting out of my chair. Sasha slid gracefully from her side of the booth, pulling Connie out with her.

“It was nice seeing you man. We should get together more often.” He smiled, pulling me in for a quick hug.

“Yeah. This was fun.” I smiled at them, pulling out a twenty from my wallet and dropping it on the table. “See you guys later then?”

“Definitely.”

“I’ll walk you out.” Sasha slipped in, giving Connie a quick look and he nodded, sliding back into his chair. I waved goodbye, starting to make my exit when I felt Sasha fingers grip my forearm again. She roughly tugged on my arm, turning me around before I could get out of the restaurant.

“Why is your clock on again?” Trust Sasha to not jump around the subject.

“I dunno.” I grumble, lifting up the useless timer to stare at the numbers slowly counting down.

“What about Mikasa? Is she not-?” Her voice trailed off and she fixed me with a hard glare, “What happened?”

I took a step back, returning the glare, “I don’t know Sash. I thought she was, but clearly she’s not considering this stupid thing is back on.” I pulled my hands up to rub my palms against my face. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on.” I growl. I’m so exhausted from all this nonsense. I’m so tired of trying to find them. I’m so tired of waiting for the moment I get to be with them and feel happy like Connie and Sasha are.

Sasha’s silent for a few minutes and I can hear her let out a deep sigh, “I don’t like this.” I bit my lip and was about to open my mouth to retort but she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into a tight hug, “Go get them, but don’t hurt yourself or Mikasa, ok?” She whispered.

I nodded and felt her arms fall and I gave her a wave before I started walking back towards the subway. I was making my walk down into the station when I felt my wrist buzz. Confused, I pulled my attention to it and froze.

Thirty minutes.

I was supposed to have 3 days left. Not thirty minutes. My stomach drops. It was being defective again. I had gotten my hopes up for nothing. I walked towards the platform and waited, watching the timer as it counted down steadily. It hadn’t changed yet like I was expecting it too.

The woman next to me on the platform nudged me softly. “Are you nervous?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded anyway. She smiled warmly and pat my arm, “It’s alright. I was nervous when I met him.” I noticed the man next to her, leaning heavily on the cane and watching me cautiously. “The nerves are the worst part. Everything after that is a joy ride.”

I gave her a smile and nodded, “Thank you.”

She gave me another gentle pat on my arm, “I’m sure you’ll love her. Good luck.”

“Or him.” I grumbled. I gave her a sideways glance and took noticed the hard frown on her lips. The train pulled up and I quickly stumbled in, taking a seat on the cold bench. The clock is still counting down. 21 minutes. The ride back to Trost was roughly 18 minutes. The steady countdown was making me sweat nervously. We used to call this kid in my high school sweaty. Wow, was I giving him a run for his money.

I could see the old woman talking to her husband. Her smile was warm and she rested her hand on his. She looked so happy. I had about 5 minutes now. Could I be that happy?

Was this all a trick?

I ran my fingers through my mousy hair, wiping my sweaty palms off on my jeans and stood up when the train rolled to a stop. The clock was at 3 minutes now. It hadn’t jumped. It was steady. The station was clear except for a few people getting off the subway. Do I do something different than what I would’ve normally done? Or do I just walk home? I don’t know how this works and I’m panicking. I started to walk towards the exit when I felt my clock buzz.  
I glance down at the timer, 30 seconds. I climbed the stairs and just as I’m rounding the corner, I felt the clock buzz one last time. I was about to look down but I smacked head first into a solid body.

“Watch it.” I snarled, stepping back to rub at my nose.

“Sorry!” For such a tall, muscular guy, he sure had a squeaky voice just then. The man took a step back and it took me a moment to take in his attire. He had white jeans on, a white button up shirt and a tan jacket pulled over it. There were straps wrapped around his legs that lead up underneath a brown skirt --no, sash-- but then they wrapped up to his chest. He had knee high boots, and my eyes flickered back up to look at the symbol on the jacket. Crossed wings.

This was too weird. I was scared to look at his face. The uniform he was wearing looked exactly like the one in my dreams.

“Jean?” The voice sounded confused and it caught in their throat.

I’m so confused by the sound of my name on his tongue that I finally looked up. Freckles. Everywhere. It’s almost overwhelming. The right side of his face was covered by a rather large scar. The edges stretching out across his skin like roots. It curved down his neck and escaped into the reaches of his collar. “What?” I choke out, still too stunned by the beauty of the freckled boy in person.

He looked confused and his eyes darted over all of my features frantically, “I-I’m sorry. You are Jean Kirschstein?”

“Yes.” I straightened myself up in hopes that I can gain a couple inches but it was no use. The guy was half a head taller than me. Fucking tall bastard. “What’s your name?” It came out more of an order than a question but he didn’t even grimace.

He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand and his face fell for a split second before a nervous smile took its place. He dragged his hand to rub at the back of his neck, “Marco Bodt.” When he moved to put his hand down, my eyes caught the familiar looking watch latched around his wrist. I reached out instinctively, my fingers closing around his wrist and I pushed his jacket away from the clock.

000d 00h 00m 00s.

I looked around us. No one had walked past us or anywhere near us for a while. My clock buzzed when I hit him. “When did this last buzz, Marco?” My voice shook when I spoke. If it buzzed when I hit him, then he’s the one. He’s the one my clock has been flipping shit for. I hold his wrist delicately, like if I press too hard he’ll shatter. This doesn’t seem real.

He doesn’t move to pull his hand away and I could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke. “When you ran into me.” His voice is soft and it was quivering.  
My stomach dropped.

I found him.

He was right in front of me.

My heart was swelling and I didn’t know what to do I was so happy. He was ok. He was breathing. He was alive. He was with me.

“What is it exactly?”

“Hah?” He didn’t know what the clock was? Did his parents never explain to him? How did he not know? “What do you mean?”

“I mean I know it’s some kind of timer, but it’s been counting down until I met you since I woke up.” He blinked at me, his head tilted to the side. He looked genuinely confused. He honestly didn’t know.

“You seriously don’t know what this is? Did you hit your head man?” I narrowed my eyes at him. He looked fine, even if his eyes were bloodshot and his outfit was a little strange.

He laughed and shook his head. “No I don’t think so.” He looked around at the surroundings and narrowed his eyes, a pensive look passing across his features. “By the way, where are we?”

My jaw dropped. I realize I was still holding his wrist and lightly pulled him towards me. “Trost. Are you sure you’re alright?” I reached up to brush my hand on his forehead. His skin felt fine, slightly cold due to the chilling winds but he didn’t have a fever.

My eyes widened and I quickly dropped my hand and stepped back, the realization hitting me that I literally met him 2 minutes ago and I felt so comfortable with him already. Is this what it’s like to have a soul mate? How fast do they become partners? I know jack shit about this topic and obviously, neither does Marco. It’s not like I can ask Mikasa about this either-

Mikasa.  
Shit.

I pulled out my phone and pulled up the messages. I didn’t have anything from Mikasa but it had been at least been twenty minutes since I told her I was on my way back. I should already be at home and on the couch with her in my arms at this point.

I lifted my eyes to give Marco a sorry look, and looked down towards my phone. I could feel his gaze looking over me, watching my movements as if he hadn’t seen me in years. He took a step closer, his fingers reaching forward to brush the end of my cell phone. I looked up, noticing how his eyes were brighter and his entire body was humming with interest.

“What is that?” he questioned, dropping his hands to his side.

“Did you come from the dark ages?”

“Does 857 count as the dark ages?”

I froze, the phone nearly falling from my fingertips. When I spoke my voice was high and squeaky, “I’m sorry, but did you say 857? Are you like part dinosaur?” He gave me this expression as if I’m the one that’s sprouted two heads and I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re pretty attractive for being at least a thousand years old.”

_Oh shit did I just say that out loud._

His entire face turned a dark red and he swallowed loud, his eyes flickering around the empty street before a sly grin takes place upon his lips, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

I’m dead. I think my heart stopped. He raised an eyebrow and I was still staring at his stupid grin. “What were you going to do with that?” He questioned, pointing toward the cell phone held loosely in my fingers.

I jolted; the phone slid from my fingers and fell into Marco’s hands. He held it with unsure hands before his face contorted into one of inquisitive amazement and he silently handed it back to me.

“I was going to call my girl-” I cut myself off. I might not want to say girlfriend around him. Can I say girlfriend? I don’t think that would be fair. Saying she isn’t my girlfriend is worse though right? “Roommate.” _Great save, Jean._

Marco cocked his head again. Is he ever not confused? Well I guess being a thousand years old can do that to a person. “So it’s like a communicator? Oh that would’ve been handy.”

“Handy for what?” I asked, watching as the light in Marco’s eyes faded and he slowly shook his head.

“Nothing.” He seemed to have closed off by now, his jaw was set and he took a deep breath. When he looked up, his eyes danced all over my face and narrowed. We were silent for a while, and I just let him look over me. My fingers stilled over the phone keypad, I was too focused on watching his eyes frantically wash over my body. He got down to my hands and hummed softly, “What are you doing with that?”

“Letting her know I’m late.”

“Doesn’t she already know?”

I paused in my message and frowned, “Yeah, I’m just giving her a reason.” I quickly typed in, ‘ran into an old friend, I’ll be about fifteen more mins or so.’ I pressed send and almost instantly got a message back. ‘Ok.’

“Whoa.” Marco gasped next to me. A smile tugged at the corner of my lips. I couldn't help but find his amusement in this so entertaining.

“So where are you from, Gramps?”

“Jinae. I’m not that much older than you, you know.” He quipped, turning his head to look at me. He seemed so at ease with being this close to me. It’s comforting but a little unnerving considering how we had only just met. He bit his lip, “Are you 22 now?”

“Yeah, I am.” I nudged him and look around, my legs itching to sit down. “How did you know that?” I took a step behind him, placed my hands on his shoulders and led him towards a park bench. “How much older are you?”

“Only a year older.” He replied, his long legs carrying him to the bench and he sats down next to me. I slouched back in the chair and crossed my legs. “I don’t know how to explain it… We’ve met before.” I could barely hear his whisper.

“How are you only a year older if you’re from 857? And how could we have met before?” I asked, dumbfounded. He’s fucking with me.

He shrugged, his head falling back so he can look at the stars littering the night sky. I couldn’t help but look at the constellations of freckles on his face. It’s like a better version of connect the dots. “I don’t know how I’m here. I just remember the titans. I remember you.” His face fell and he leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. “I remember losing sight of you. I never found you.” He cut off. His voice cracked when he spoke again, “It’s been six years. I thought- I thought I’d lost you-”

I don’t know how to comfort people and I tilted my head back, watching the stars in the sky as he talked. I say the first thing I can think of when his voice trailed off, “You found me here.”

He looked up from his hands, his eyes wide and brimmed with tears. I opened my mouth to attempt to try and comfort him more but my phone buzzed and I couldn’t decide if I should check it or not. Marco waved me off and rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand, sniffling softly. I bit my lip and slowly pulled out my phone checked my messages.

**From: Mikasa**   
**It’s been 15 mins and 5 secs.**

I rolled my eyes and shot her a text back, aware of Marco slowly leaning closer to me to get a glance over my shoulder.

**To: Mikasa**   
**I hate you.**

**From: Mikasa**   
**Hate you too.**

**From: Mikasa**   
**But you’re late.**

I groaned and shoved the device back into my pocket, turning to look at the cute freckled old guy sitting next to me. “I got to head back to my apartment.” He leaned back and his face fell for a split second before the small smile was back on his face.

“Ok. It was great-”

“Do you have a place to stay?” I blurted. I didn’t really want to leave this guy wandering the streets if he didn’t have a place to stay. He didn’t look like he belonged here with his weird, although very attractive, outfit, and he knows next to nothing technology wise. I was also seriously intrigued by his backstory. I never expected time-travel, but I guess it’s not so farfetched from my mom’s alternate universe theories. If I was presented with a chance, I had so many questions I would bombard him with. _How could he possibly know me? How is he here? How is he from 857?_

He opened and closed his mouth a couple times. He looked like a gaping fish and I miraculously refrained from laughing. “I don’t.” He finally replied.

“You can stay at my apartment.” I offered, pulling out my phone to text Mikasa that a friend was going to stay over.

“I don’t want to be a bother.” He retaliated and I let out a snort.

“You won’t, man.” I stood up and waited for him to stand. I put my phone away, and started to lead him towards my apartment. When’s a good time to tell him that I’m dating my roommate? When’s a good time to tell my girlfriend that I found my soul mate.

I’m taking my soul mate to meet my girlfriend.  
Fuck.  
I don’t know how I didn’t see this problem when I originally asked the question.

* * *

I pulled the key out of my pocket, easily sliding it in and unlocking the door. I glanced over my shoulder at Marco, “I promise she’s nice.” I pushed open the door, standing off to the side to let him walk in first. When he moved past me, I saw the nervousness flicker in his eyes. He moved slowly, his steps light, as if ready to leap into action if something went wrong.

“You’re back late.” Mikasa’s voice sounded from around the corner. I heard the TV turn off and then the old couch croak as she stood up. Marco froze in his place and his posture straightened. I strode around him, letting the door swing shut behind me. Dumping the keys into the jar on the bar I glanced back at Marco and motioned for him to follow me.

“Yeah, sorry, ran into an old friend. Turns out he didn’t have a place to stay while he’s in town.”

Mikasa walked into the room, already dressed for bed in one of my MCR shirts and her Nike shorts. Her expression remained flat as she turned to look at Marco, her hands on her hips. Marco looked like he was about to shit himself, a nervous smile spread across his lips. I barely noticed the look of shock that flashed in his eyes as he looked at her. It was the same look he gave me when he first saw me.

He said he hadn’t seen me in six years. Does the same apply to Mikasa? None of this is making sense considering we’ve never met him before.  
Marco stretched out his hand, his smile broadening as he introduces himself, “Hi, I’m Marco.”

“I’m Mikasa.” She reached out to give him a quick, firm handshake before taking a step back and giving him one final glance over. Her eyes narrowed and she hummed softly. I can tell she was biting back a comment by the way she was rolling forward on her feet and her lips tightened into a thin line. Marco shuffled around on his feet, his eyes frantically dancing around the house, taking in every detail and determined to not make eye contact. Mikasa kept her eyes pinned on Marco, focused on the gear he wore, but when she spoke it was directed to me. “So, how are Connie and Sasha?

“Oh just fine. Still not engaged.”

Mikasa let out a little laugh, the corner of her lips pressing up into a smile, “Of course not.” her eyes fell to the watch on Marco’s wrist. I could see the increased furrow of her eyebrows and then she quickly looked him over again, her inquisitive eyes calculating any possibility of a new client.

“He’s fine.” I warned her, putting my hand on her shoulder.

Marco instantly turned to the motion and I was suddenly very uncomfortable with this situation. His brows furrowed slightly, but Mikasa doesn’t seem to notice the shift in atmosphere and twisted her body to lightly press a kiss to my lips.

“I’m going to head off to bed. Don’t stay up too late. Nice meeting you, Marco.” She pat me on shoulder lightly, slinking off to the bedroom, leaving us to deal with the growing tension.

“So… you and Mikasa?” Marco muttered as soon as the bedroom door had shut.

I watched him carefully, waiting for something to happen but his eyes had fallen to his feet and I could see the tiny smile on his lips.  
“Marco-” I start.

“No, it’s fine.” He looked up, his voice soft, a bright smile on his features but it looked forced. He takes a step towards the living room, “What do you normally do around here?”

I cleared my throat and strolled past him, motioning towards the flat screen against the wall, “Watch TV or play video games.”

“Watch what or do what?” He looked at me to the television, his expression lost and confused. I reached behind him slowly, grabbing the remote and pressing the power button. The TV clicked to live and Marco’s jaw drops, “Whoa! How did you do that?”

I chuckled and waved the remote in front of him, “Here, play with it.” I tossed it towards him and he quickly caught it, twisting the device in his fingers. He pressed buttons, managing to change the channel to nickelodeon

I snorted at it and slumped down into the couch. Marco stared at the TV, his jaw gaping and he slowly lowered himself into the couch, “This is so cool, what is this?”

I laughed, “I dunno, I think it’s called Digimon? Trust me, there are better shows.”

Marco hummed and nodded, continuing to watch the strange boy run around with his yellow dinosaur.

“So gramps, what’s up with the whole ‘I know you’ shit?” I asked, pulling up my feet onto the couch, my toes brushing his thigh.

He set the remote down and leaned back, frowning, “To be honest, I don’t know how I’m here.” He leaned his head back, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, “I don’t even know how I’m alive. I don’t know how you’re alive. I saw your body.” His voice cut off and he took a deep breath. “When did you meet Mikasa?” His voice sounded strained and he remained hidden behind his hands.

“Eight months ago.”

I can see his brows furrow and he mumbles, “How is that possible.”

“What?”

“She died 3 years ago.”

I bit my lips, raising an eyebrow. “Are you absolutely sure you didn’t hit your head?”

Marco sighs heavily, “Yeah. Sorry.” His hands fell and he raised his head slowly, pulling his legs up beneath him. He’s kicked off his boots by this point and I can see how the straps wrap tight around the bottom of his feet.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.” I whispered, sliding off to my feet and walking into the bedroom. I grab a shirt and some sweatpants, twisting around and snatching the thick blanket on the bed. Mikasa grumbled and turns around, shoving her face into my pillow. Swiftly, I turned on my heel and walked out of the room, dumping the clothes and blanket on Marco’s lap.

“The clothes might be a little small, but I think they’ll fit. We can buy you something tomorrow.” I pulled the blanket from underneath the clothes and dumped it on the couch. I pulled the pillow out from behind Marco and set it next to the blanket, “We don’t have an extra bed, so you’ll have to sleep here. It doesn’t pull out.”

Marco picked up the clothes slowly, and hugs them to his body as he stands up. “Thank you, Jean.”

“Bathroom’s down the hallway.” I mumbled, looking down the hallway, my cheeks hot.

He walked away and I tried not to focus on the way the jeans hugged his ass.

Try being the key word here.

I didn’t wait for him to come back; I just walked back into my bedroom and stripped down to my boxers, pushing Mikasa over as I slid into bed and turned around. Her arms looped around my waist and I tried hard to get the image of Marco’s full face out of my head as I fell asleep.

* * *

I yawned and squinted, turning onto my side, my arm spreading out into the cold empty space next to me. The morning light was pouring through the open blinds and I could smell the sweet beautiful scent of coffee filling the apartment. I rolled across the bed, tumbling off to the side and swiftly landing on my feet. Shrugging off the blankets, I started walking to the kitchen but the sound of Mikasa’s voice followed by a higher male’s voice caught me off guard.

I frowned and walked through the door, decorated in just my boxers.

“Don’t you need pants, Jean?” Mikasa questioned, her back turned to me as she poured a fresh cup of coffee. The freckled guy is sitting at the bar; his face flushed a brilliant red as he looked at me.

“Good morning.” He squeaked, his eyes turned down to the waffle on his plate.

I grunted in response, reaching out to take the coffee from Mikasa. She bustled around the kitchen and I moved around the counter and sat down next to Marco at the bar. His waffle smelled burnt and sure enough, sections were blackened but he’s still picking at the charred breakfast like a champ.

“You making me one of those?” I grumbled, pointing my thumb at the burnt waffle when Mikasa started to pour batter onto the waffle maker.

“Yes.” She gave me a look that says ‘take over and I’ll hurt you so bad you won’t be able to have children’ so I silently sipped on my coffee and left her to her business.

“You could at least learn how to do it right.” I mumbled softly as the smell of burnt waffles fills the apartment further. The waffles have been done for a couple seconds but she kept them in longer, letting them get ‘crispy’.

“Mine tastes fine.” Marco chimed in. I looked over and he popped a piece of charred waffle into his mouth and made a disgusted face but continues to chew the food with determination.

“If you like blackened waffles yeah.”

“He said he’d never had waffles before.” Mikasa grumbled, dropping the black monstrosity onto a plate and set it in front of me.

“Ok, one. I’m not eating that. Two, you’re kidding right?” I pushed the plate away and turned to Marco.

“Well I’ve had them before, but it’s been a really long time. I think since I was eleven or twelve.”

I turned back towards my plate, staring at the charred mass. Mikasa was trying again and I stood up, walked around next to her and nudged her hip to take over. She glared at me and I silently prayed she wouldn’t do something horrible to me in my sleep, but she moved over to my seat next to Marco, taking my coffee and finishing up the rest.

“Stop eating that one. It’s bad.” I growled, easily whipping up an edible piece of food. Mikasa huffed and took one bite of the waffle she made me before leaning over and dumping the plate in the sink and the waffle in the trash.

“It’s nice knowing you’re not good at everything.” I snickered, setting two waffles in front of them and grabbing my cup to refill with fresh coffee. “So what were y’all talking about before I woke up?”

“Waffles.” Mikasa quipped, angrily stabbing a section of the new waffle.

“You act angry, but you still eat the waffle.” I snickered.

Mikasa glared at me, shoving her bite into her mouth. She swallowed, and picked at the waffle, “Levi is coming by again later and you know how much he likes you, Jean.”

I groaned, “Fine. We’ll leave. This is my apartment too you know.”

“Says the bartender who barely pays the rent.”

“Ouch. Let me dream a little, woman.” I growled playfully. Our morning routine is so normal that I feel bad for letting Marco sit in on it. The watch on my wrist feels heavy and I set to work on cleaning the waffle maker, determined to have something to do with my hands.

“How long are you staying with us, Marco?”

Marco was silent and when I looked up, he was staring at the waffle vacantly, his expression empty and dumbfounded. I pushed the plate towards him and he snapped out of his daze, “What? Oh, I’m sorry. I- I uh-”

“Until he finds his own apartment.” I finished for him, watching him with a raised eyebrow.

Marco looked up at me and nodded slowly, “right.”

“Ok well.” Mikasa started, pushing up in the chair to put her plate in the sink. “I’m going to get dressed. Marco do you need clothes?”

Marco took a bite of his waffle and before he could respond, Mikasa had nodded and walked off to the bedroom. Marco looked at me with a raised eyebrow and I shrugged. Mikasa strolled back in the room, still in her pajamas and dumped a button up shirt on the bar along with a cardigan. Both mine.

“They were a little big on Jean. I forgot his size, so they should fit you.” She smiled softly and swiftly turned on her heel, disappearing into the bedroom. The sound of the shower sounded and I looked at the shirt and cardigan.

“I don’t even remember getting these.” I grumbled, moving to pick them up and look them over.

Marco laughed and grabbed the cardigan and shirt from my hands. I looked up at him, taking in the note of how my other shirt looked on him. Marco smiled lightly and set the clothes back on the bar, picking up his plate and walked around to set them in the sink.

“I can get that.” I mumbled as he turned on the water.

“It’s fine. You were always really bad at washing dishes.”

“I’m not!” I snapped, crossing my arms and glaring at him. He gave me a side look and the corner of his lips turned up.

“You totally are.”

I frowned, my eyes narrowing as he finished cleaning the plates. They were a lot cleaner than if I had done them. “Ok, that’s just freaky.” I muttered softly.

“What?”

“How you knew that.”

Marco stepped back from the sink, drying off his hands. He gave a sheepish smile, watching me warily as I stepped away from the counters.  
“Go get changed, we should leave soon if Levi is coming.”

Marco nodded, carefully set up the washcloth and then grabbed the clothes and briskly walked to the bathroom at the end of the hall.

I chuckled and slipped into the bedroom, pulling out my punisher t-shirt and slipped into jeans. I grabbed the red beanie and jammed it on my head. Mikasa walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her body, her hair pulled up into a loose messy bun.

“You heading out now?”

“Yeah, dragging Marco with me too.

“Okay. See you later then?” She smiled, stepping up to me to wrap her arms around me.

I nodded, kissing her temple softly, “Later.” I walked out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind me. Marco sat at the bar again, drumming his fingers against the granite. “Ready?” I asked, smiling at the checkered button up and red cardigan with the white jeans he wore.

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally not in high school anymore! YAAAY!!!   
> This chapter has been done for so long but I never had time to post it my goodness, sorry for the delay!
> 
> Hope you like it! Let me know what you think!


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